


Grounding

by Cats_Obsessions



Series: Unexpected - Fenris/Dorian [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Friendship, Fenris in Dragon Age: Inquisition, Fenris' past is vaguely implied, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Triggers, banter gone wrong, eventual romance in later fics, its not as dark as the tags make it seem, no direct discussions of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:03:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28991145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cats_Obsessions/pseuds/Cats_Obsessions
Summary: Fenris has been a part of the inquisition for awhile now and made an alarming number of friends. On a mission with the gang, Bull says something that brings back some unpleasant memories. The last thing he expects is to be consoled by an Altus.Or DAI + Fenris
Relationships: Fenris/Dorian Pavus
Series: Unexpected - Fenris/Dorian [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126691
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Grounding

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I need to preface this by saying I used some of Dorian and Bull's DAI dialogue as something that is triggering to Fenris. It's nothing against Bull; it's just that the line really feels like it comes out of nowhere and certainly could be taken as drastically inappropriate/not friendly flirting if Dorian's not into it. I think Bull just likes to flirt and is used to a lot of people wanting to get with him. But in this verse, Dorian already has quite a crush on Fenris.

Birdsong fills the forest overhead and green tinted beams of sunshine filter down through the trees. The day is warm with the slightest breeze. All would be peaceful if not for the constant bickering between the group. Inquisitor Ellena sighs heavily, once again questioning her choice in companions. First, Sera was badgering Fenris –something about him being too uptight— and now Bull and Dorian are back to petty bickering again.

“At least Quinari don’t wear skirts.”

“First of all, I’m not wearing a skirt. It’s a robe.” Dorian bites back, putting his hands on his hips “Secondly, I would look ravishing in a skirt. And lastly, at least we wear fucking shirts?! What’s with this running around half naked all the time? Put on some damn armor.”

“And cover up this view?” Bull responds haughtily with an aggravating smirk.

Dorian scoffs and rolls his eyes, “I don’t see anything worth viewing.” 

“Can you two stop bickering and focus on finding a place to set up camp?” the inquisitor says, though it largely goes unnoticed by the two.

Bull goes on, “Don’t lie to yourself, Dorian. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. These big, muscled hands could tear those robes off while you struggled, helpless in my grip.”

“Uh, what?” Dorian stammers, taken aback by the comment. It is unexpected to say the least. Bull is popular when it comes to finding bed partners at Skyhold- that much is no secret. Dorian, however, hadn't particularly considered being the subject of his advances and certainly not in such a blunt manner. He doesn’t quite know how to respond before the Iron Bull continues.

“I could pin you down-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Fenris hisses, spinning around to look at them. It’s the first thing he’s said in a long while, and certainly the angriest Dorian has ever seen him.

“What? Are you jealous?” Bull chides, entirely unaware of the danger he’s in. Dorian finds his brain can’t quite process the situation, so he simply watches it unfold.

“Are you deaf? I said what the fuck is wrong with you? I know you’re a tasteless brute, but what kind of perverse threat is that?”

“What? It’s not a threat! I was flirting.”

Fenris scoffs “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, considering Quinari regard mages as less than objects. You disregard your partners comfort and consent even in conversation.”

Bull looks to Dorian with an expression of panic on his face, “Is that not where we were going with that conversation?”

“No. It was very much not.” Dorian admits. “It’s fine, though,” he places a hand on Fenris’ shoulder only to feel him tense under the touch before he pulls away. It makes something in his chest squeeze. Whether its because he sees frustration in Fenris’ eyes or because it makes him feel as though he did something to lose what trust had been between them.

Fenris purses his lips; his thoughts are almost visible from they way his eyes flit around like going from one thought to the next rapidly. “I am going to scout ahead.” He murmurs. Just as quickly, he is striding into the forest to follow the path up ahead, leaving the rest of them behind.

Silence falls over the group momentarily “Um, let’s set up camp over here.” Ellena offers, a meek suggestion. They all know it’s not the ideal spot, but at least it is something to distract everyone.

“What crawled up his ass?” the Iron Bull says once he’s sure the elf is out of earshot. “Did it sound that bad?”

“I am not offended, Bull. Not exactly charmed either, but I know you mean nothing of it.” Dorian sighs. glancing in the direction where Fenris ran off “I’m sure you can imagine those words can be taken in a very different light, especially when they come out of nowhere.”

“Shit, sorry.”

Doran tries to focus on setting up his tent, but his eyes continue to find their way the little path leading out of camp. He had never seen Fenris interfere like that before; he certainly never acted particularly protective of Dorian. Certainly, in their battles Dorian’s roll as a mage pushes him to watch for Fenris’ safety more than the reverse. There’s something about that which warms his heart. Yet, there’s something about his expression as he left that worries Dorian.

Dorian cannot fathom what the elf must have experienced at the hands of Danarius, but aside from Varric, he has the most insight into what that might have entailed. Growing up in Tevinter, he had no idea what a slave’s life was like; his father sheltered him, and his family had only paid servants. He realizes now how low that pay must have been, but at the time it seemed moral. But a lot of things about his family seemed moral which inevitably were not. When he got older, he caught glimpses of what blood magic did to people- what occurred in the homes of corrupt magisters. That was more than enough. Even here in the South, there is no shortage of horror stories of Tevinter.

“Dorian?” Ellena calls.

The mage finds himself torn from his thoughts, “Hm? Yes?”

“You good? You want to check on him?” It is more of a statement than a question, but Dorian quickly nods his head and sets off in the direction Fenris seemed to be headed in.

\----------------

Dorian finds him sitting at the base of a large tree deep in the forest, mossy planes beneath him, bright green framing him beautifully. Fenris sits with his fist clenched tightly, and Dorian can nearly see the muscles of his jaw pulled tightly as the lyrium in his markings slowly pulse like built up energy with nowhere to go- a fight or flight response trapped in the stillness of his body.

“I half expected you to be up a tree,” Dorian says lightheartedly, hoping he can get a smile out of Fenris. It doesn’t work, though. The elf continues to brood, not even sparing him a glance. “I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

What is he supposed to say? He is foolish. In moments like these, he feels as though his body, his mind, are not his own. There are still marks left by Danarius that he cannot control. A simple phrase meant lightheartedly can send him spiraling down this hole into the memories he wishes so that he could erase.

“I’m fine.” He lies between gritted teeth.

“I didn’t get a chance to say thank you,” he waits, but the elf still doesn’t look at him. “Bull is- well, Bull. The Qunari are not wordsmiths, nor are they particularly attuned to more civil forms of flirtation, Bull especially; he means no harm. But I do appreciate your willingness to stand up for me. I didn’t expect-”

“Did you come here anticipating a story? Some glimpse into my past beyond what you can muster of Varrics books?”

“I- no.” Dorian replies. He looks almost appalled by the directness “You don’t owe me or anyone else an explanation.”

Fenris voice is harsh, but never raised- not even when he spoke to Bull and not now. “You’re right. I don’t.”

Dorian pauses, and even in this state, Fenris can see the effort he gives to keep his emotions calm. What he doesn’t know is if the mage is offended or hurt. He allows the sounds of the forest to fill the space between them as Dorian’s eyes shift over the scene, finally catching the spots of red dripping from the palms of Fenris’ hands. “You’re bleeding.”

He’s met with no response. What is there to say?

Dorian sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Can I sit with you?”

Fenris nods, though reluctantly. “Why did you come here?” He asks, finally.

“I only wish to make sure you’re okay.” Dorian says as he takes a seat next to Fenris “I don’t know how you feel, but when I was still in Tevinter, I was sometimes… overcome with this fear, this panic, that seemed to curl up in my chest, squeeze the air from my lungs.” Fenris finally looks at Dorian, then. It’s unlike Dorian to be so vulnerable. He, as all Tevinters, puts up a front of cool detachment and sarcasm- only broken when his father unexpectedly cornered him in Redcliff. It gives his words a weight to them. “I’m no expert, but someone close to me taught me to ground myself by focusing on the things around me and the physical sensations I experienced from my environment.”

Fenris doesn’t reply but tries to do as he said. He focuses on steady breathing and the warmth of the body next to him, a comforting closeness he hasn’t felt in so long. For a moment, he remembers his friends- his first friends and their chaotic little group: the way that Hawke, Varric, Isabella and Aveline were so patient and supportive of him. They changed him, helped him change himself. It has been many years since they left, but those memories stand out brighter than others. The presence next to him reminds him that he isn’t alone. Once more, he has found the warmth of familiarity. There is stability in the inquisition. That a Tevinter mage is the one offering it at the moment is almost enough to make him laugh.

It’s foolish to be feeling this way because of some passing comment, no matter how horrendous the ‘flirting’- if one could even call it that. But it ignited something in him. Dorian’s discomfort triggered a deep need to protect him. But there’s more. the words have been grating on him, echoing through his head. Almost like words he’s heard before.

He sighs softly.

“May I heal your wounds? I can get bandages if you prefer,” Dorian offers.

Frustration tight in his body, his clenched fists dug sharp nails into his hands, blood dripping from the crescent shaped gashes.

Fenris shakes his head, offering his hand to Dorian “It’s fine. I’d rather not let the others see.”

The mage takes each hand, one at a time, into his own as he mutters Tevene spells. Dorian’s magic is different, feels different when the spell is cast on him. His Necromancer spells feel like voids, icy and empty as they fly through the air. His fire, much like him, feels warm and energetic. But most of all, Dorian’s magic has become familiar, _welcomed_ almost.

In Tevinter, all those years ago before he was free, Danarius’ spells hurt; they burned and seared their way throughout his body. He never felt an ounce of magic that didn’t cause pain. Now, he realizes it must have been intentional, as Dorian’s magic sends a tingling through his brands- a tickling sensation that helps his body to relax- tells him to _trust_.

“Done,” Dorian says as the wounds close. The mage stays silent next to him for some time, only the sound of their breathing between them when he finally speaks. “Can I touch you?”

His initial reaction is _no_ , but something tugs at his heart strings. Perhaps its desperation or the isolation he feels in such a state, but Fenris finds himself nodding his head. It isn’t the first time Dorian has touched him, but it is by far the most intentional as the mage gently wraps his arm around Fenris, pulling him closer against his side.

It’s warm and _safe_ , and Fenris feels himself melting under the touch, leaning further until he’s comfortably resting his head on Dorian’s shoulder. “You know, don’t you?” He mutters quietly.

“What?”

“You know how Danarius was.” Fenris repeats.

“I knew of him, yes.” Dorian says stiffly.

“And you know how slaves are treated.”

“Some- hypothetically, yes.”

“Then you know far more about me than any information I volunteered.”

“I cannot make assumptions about what you have experienced, but need I remind you, you insisted on attending a meeting with my father.” Dorian says, and Fenris can hear that air of humor in his voice and feel his thumb move ever so slightly against his shoulder, calming and reassuring.

Fenris let’s out a bitter laugh, “So, we’re almost even then.”

“ _Almost_.” Dorian smiles.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, breathing steady again as the thoughts in his head begin to calm. Fenris huffs in amusement “I would almost say I am happy to have met you, but I’m not sure such a thing could be said about an _Altus_.”

Dorian chuckles, bumping his foot against Fenris’ lightly “Oh, shut up. You know you are.”

“It is possible.”

“And I am happy to have met you, my friend.” The sentiment makes Fenris cheeks grow far warmer than he would like to admit and sends a tingling sensation to the pit of his stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years ago and never posted it. It's part of a handful of fics I'm trying to post after leaving them in drafts forever. I have a few more in this series I will hopefully be posting soon! 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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